


Welcome to Your Happy Ending

by wynnesome



Series: 2020 SteveTony Games [4]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Iron Man (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Angst, Angst and Porn, Avengers Vol. 5 (2013), Breathplay, De-Serumed Steve Rogers, Dubious Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremis 3.0, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, M/M, Old Man Steve Rogers, Smut, SteveTony Games 2020, Superior Iron Man Vol 1. (2015), Team Angst, hickmanvengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25802689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnesome/pseuds/wynnesome
Summary: After the events of Avengers v5 #29, Steve seems to have a habit of showing up on Tony's doorstep, and Tony has an open-door policy. Steve hurls death threats, and Tony mocks and lords it over Steve with his Extremis 3.0-powered vitality. Until the day Tony takes it a few steps further, initiating a sexual encounter of highly dubious consent, during which he reminisces about their long-ago dreams of growing old together, using Extremis to demonstrate to Steve what that might have looked like.(A retelling of "The Terminally Dysfunctional Love-Hate Affair of De-Serumed Old Man Steve Rogers and Superior Iron Man Tony Stark.")
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: 2020 SteveTony Games [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1786930
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24
Collections: Team Angst





	Welcome to Your Happy Ending

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for the "Growing Old Together" square for Team Angst in the [SteveTony Games](https://stevetonygames.dreamwidth.org/). Bonus prompts are "Superior Iron Man," "Praise Kink," "Breathplay," "Armor Kink," and "Blindfold." 
> 
> **CONTENT WARNING:**  
>  This fic features explicit sexual content and a dubious consent situation of the sort where one character's words say, "NO I DO NOT WANT THIS!" while their actions say, "YES I DO, I JUST REFUSE TO ADMIT IT." It is very much not-happy sex.

Tony sent his several thousand concurrent Iron Sight camera-drone views to background processing, upon hearing the sound of footsteps. A heavy tread, if a little slower than it used to be. Ah, yes. He'd been waiting. His door was always open for Steve. He picked up his drink.

The man himself burst through, attired in full SHIELD uniform, his ferocious glare exaggerated by the recent anti-makeover. Steve pretended not to be bitter -- about the aging, at least. It was less than obvious with his teeth already floating in a cocktail of vinegar and rue.

Tony gave him a jaunty wave. "Morning, Cap. Oh, that's right, not Cap anymore. Well, always Cap to me. Here for another round of murder threats? Got some good ones? Hit me, your last set felt a little flat."

"You're despicable. I despise you. I'm disgusted by what you've become." Steve marched up and spat the words in Tony's face, his watery blue eyes ablaze.

"Yes, yes, you can skip the intro. What is it this time? The publicity, the orgies, the _drinking_?" Tony sneered, gesturing with the nearly empty martini glass, then tossing back the last swallow and dashing the glass on the floor in a fountain of shards. The light caught the crystal in a momentary rainbow mosaic. "There, _all done_."

Steve brushed off the front of his pants, wincing slightly and plucking a fragment from his palm.

"Oh, don't do that. You'll make yourself bleed, what a shame. So what was it today?"

"You're dabbling with Extremis again," Steve accused.

"Dabbling? I resent that. This is a _fait accompli_ , a masterful accomplishment, befitting my genius."

"We agreed, a long time ago, Tony. No more."

Tony shrugged."Guess you didn't read the fine print. Times have changed. That agreement's expired. Null and void. Sorry, Steve."

"Oh, of course. As always, your word is only as good as your convenience. Should have called it 'Expedience 3.0.'"

The Endo-sym rippled with Tony's shoulders again. "Life presents limitless possibilities. Pays to keep your options open. You're the tactician."

"Fine. Point established. You have no scruples. But so help me, Stark, do not touch me with that abomination. Keep it away, off me, out of me, I want nothing to do with it."

"What, no words for the poor, downtrodden masses, my city full of hapless pawns? So selfish. I'm impressed." Tony bared his teeth in a wide, sparkling leer.

"Promise me!" Steve snarled, jabbing him in the armor's chest.

"Sure, you want to pinky swear? Fine with me, but you just said it yourself, I'll only break it as soon as it's convenient."

"Fuck you, Tony. Don't try me. Not on this, I'm telling you--" 

Tony caught him by the wrist, ignoring Steve's token resistance and reeling him in, back to chest, flush to his armored body.   
"Oh, don't be like this, baby. Come here." He wrapped an arm around Steve's waist, fingers flirting with his fly, and the other around his neck, cradling it in the crook of his elbow.

Steve huffed, seething. 

"You think you can fool me? I know you, Steve. I know all of you. Intimately, inside and out." Low and menacing, Tony spoke with his lips to Steve's ear.

"The wrinkles on your skin haven't changed the wrinkles on your brain, the convolutions that make you who you are and have always been. So determined, Steve. So persistent, so resolute." The hinge of his elbow started to close, but not enough to cut off Steve's air or even his speech. Not yet. "So god-damned, motherfucking _righteous_."

Steve's hips twitched, the front of his uniform swelling into Tony's hand. He rubbed the heel of it down harshly, and cackled. "Oh, does that still do it for you? I never said any of it was "good," but your old-man cock still seems to have taken it as praise."

Steve growled, his face flushed.

"That's right. I know what you're here for. And I know how you ask for the things you don't want to want." Tony used his feet to kick Steve's legs open wider, and undid his belt and fly to reach inside, shoving impatiently at the stodgy Y-fronts holding his target cocooned in tight elastic. Steve bucked, but he was in a disadvantaged position, and Tony shortly had the constricting underwear worked down to the tops of his thighs, stretching beneath the grey-furred balls on display beneath his half-hard cock, framed in the open vee of the trousers. He eyed the testicles critically, and gave them a rough squeeze. Steve tried to shrink in on himself, but there was nowhere to go.

"Hanging a little lower than they used to, aren't they, old man. Guess that goes for all of you." Tony abused Steve's sack once more, with a sharp tug, and then shifted up to his cock, gripping and tugging up from base to tip there, too. 

Steve's breath was dragging in heavily, but he didn't answer. The response of his body was answer enough. In fact, Tony wanted to see more. He turned a drone toward Steve's front, and switched his vision to split-view. Steve's mouth was pursed tight, teeth digging into his lower lip, and nostrils flaring.

Tony played with Steve's dick and balls some more, and at Steve's throat, he flexed and relaxed his bicep, creating an unpredictable, fluctuating pressure, drinking in the non-verbal reactions through his entire sensor array. It was nice to hold Steve like this, relishing the thrumming tension in his body, hearing his breathing grow louder and more labored. It always had been, but there was an extra piquancy to it now, while Steve's spirit was so unwillingly weak to what his flesh still longed for. Tony felt a wave of nostalgia. _Ahhh, memories_.

"Remember how we used to talk, Steve, how we'd hope and plan? That dream of growing old together?" He manifested an extension of the armor in front of them, a shimmering plate of silver showing their heads pressed close, a distorted reflection of a distorted reflection. "How's that happy ending looking now, hmmm?"

"Fuck you, Stark," Steve repeated, venom-tongued. "I don't want this."

"Mmm, got yourself between a nice little rock and hard place, then, don't you. Own up and admit your perverse, wicked desires, or admit defeat, knowing I've gotten the better of you, and you're powerless to stop me from taking what I want. Either way, I'm hot for it." He clamped down on the chokehold, and, in a corner of his mind, isolated and activated a switch.

The body beneath his hands broadened and firmed. Everywhere. On the makeshift mirror, and in the high resolution of the camera view, Steve's hair went from colorless to golden; his skin lost its ashen hue, and his eyes regained their brilliant blue, like a saturation slider moving from dull to vibrant. His unwrinkled face twisted into a roar, but Tony had him by the throat, and by the balls, and the sound was cut off to a furious rumble in his arching chest. His cock, fully hard now, leapt in Tony's fist.

Tony stroked him, his armored thumb spreading the drops of liquid leaking at the head, luxuriating in the slide of hard flesh through the smooth metal covering his palm.

This armor was the pinnacle, more truly a part of him than any other had been. Superior. indeed, the perfect extension of his already Extremis-perfected self. He caressed Steve, and the Endo-sym caressed him, its flowing metal cradling his body, pulsing around his groin, sending a widely flared shaft up to penetrate past his ring of muscle with a perfectly insistent stretch, angling up inside him to tap that perfect, nerve-sparking spot.

All of it ran perfectly integrated in parallel with his organics, interfaced via extravagantly allocated bandwidth to his pleasure centers, lighting him up in a perfect feedback loop.

There was simply no argument with this level of perfection, and Steve was part of it, the single external component to make the system complete.

Steve, whose shuddering, heaving body was mass and pressure all along Tony's front, his pulse beating thick and hard under Tony's arm, his throat working in hard muffled grunts that were all he could get out through Tony's locked-in hold. Tony mouthed at his ear, bit at the side of his neck, greedy for the sharp, visceral salt-and-sweat taste of him, and for the intoxicating, high-voltage current of having Steve under his control, both the portion Steve had granted him, and what he had co-opted by force. 

Viewed from above and behind, down the front; viewed on the nanoplate looking-glass; viewed through the Iron Sight -- what a picture they made. What a gallery of art they could become together, thanks to Extremis, the ultimate tool to transform flesh to canvas.

Tony gave himself a new sculpt from the neck up, whitening his hair to silver that matched the armor (why had he ever worn gold; silver was so much more elegant), and carving his face with a classic pattern of crags and crow's feet. Only the appearance, of course. He was planning on actually aging exactly never. 

Oh, they were a handsome couple like this, too. 

Steve's eyes were squeezed closed, and his mouth open, working on emptiness. No, no, this would not do.

"Wake up, old man," Tony barked out, and Steve's lids flew open, his lungs expelling a nearly silent gasp. "How do you like what you see now?" 

He let up the pressure on Steve's throat; even as an elder, Steve was so vigorous that Tony had almost forgotten he was no longer enhanced, and probably couldn't hold his breath now the way he had before. 

Steve panted, sweat-sheened and red in the face. "You... bastard," he gritted out. "Don't... mock me."

Tony chortled, admiring the artfulness of his own temporary laugh-lines. "I think you make more a mockery of yourself." He pumped Steve's dick in two tight, short strokes, watched his jaw clench and felt a tremor roll through him. "But I do want you to enjoy this, so if you really feel so strongly about it... How about now?"

He tweaked the subroutine of Extremis responsible for altering Steve, maintaining the bulk of his body while letting his face fall back to its sags and wrinkles, and then deepened all the lines in his own, thinning and hollowing his cheeks, and sinking the set of his eyes further back in his brow. He steeled himself to be disgusted by the image, and was startled when he actually felt a pang, soft and sentimental, clutching around his heart. 

"There we are, a pair of old men together, still loving in the twilight of our days," he mused, his voice coming out strangely gentle. He smoothed his hand over Steve's cockhead, petting it, holding it nuzzled into his palm. 

Steve's face screwed itself into a grimace. "You make me sick."

"Well, never mind then." Tony shook his head, simultaneously reshaping his own countenance to its usual flawless aspect, so it was like he'd literally shaken away the years. Style backed by substance, a clever touch. "Not my fault some people just can't be pleased. It's a good thing you aren't so difficult to satisfy in other ways."

He punctuated the statement by taking up a renewed grip on Steve's erection, running his hand down till the heel pressed deep into the root, and jerking in long, forceful pulls, with his fingertips tucked to run directly along the thick vein.

Steve's hips rolled, and he groaned, throwing his head back on Tony's shoulder, then forward, his body jerking and ticcing, and Tony knew he had him still trapped in his quandary, his rising pleasure battling his urge to fight free.

The master key to Steve was to give him a war. Making it one he couldn't win was diabolical. Setting him against himself was transcendent. 

"I told you, Steve" Tony hissed. "I know _exactly_ what you want. You call me a monster, but you come to me to see the monstrosities within yourself. You act like everything's changed so much between us, yet nothing's changed at all. You still need me to show you how to see yourself. Exactly the way it's always been, from the day we pulled you out of the ice."

"I hate you, I _hate_ you," Steve chanted in a vicious crescendo, as Tony continued to expertly manipulate him, mercilessly exploiting his arousal. His eyes closed again, his head falling to hang heavily across Tony's arm. Tony left the hold loose now, forearm angling down and fingers resting at Steve's collar bone, no longer a choke, but an embrace for Steve to strangle himself upon. 

He made no protest to Steve withdrawing once more to the dark behind his eyelids. Instead, he reabsorbed the extension creating the mirror screen, blanked his camera feeds and internal visuals, and let the Endo-sym roll a visor across his own eyes, snug over the bridge of his nose. They'd both seen everything they needed to for today.

Sightless, he indulged in the familiar body; the rich scents of oils and musk exuding from the brazier of heated hair and skin; the textures of fabric and hard flesh; and Steve's tortured, pleasured sounds, the most magnificent symphony to conduct.

More memories rushed back, moments that spanned two decades, countless blissful hours of leading Steve into heights of glorious surrender, of opening him up, pulling out everything he had inside, and replacing it, reshaped to Tony's own will. It had never been sweeter than this. 

The darkness amplified all of his other senses, even seeming to heighten the resolution of the haptic data flowing in. The totality enmeshed him in a tapestry of sensation, embroidered in vivid threads of the armor's intense vibrations cupped around his cock, the zinging jolts through his prostate that spiderwebbed up and down his limbs, and Steve's swollen shaft, furiously straining in his hand. 

He rocked them together, breathing into the short hair behind Steve's ear, driving them toward the peak. When he felt Steve's body stutter and clench, he nudged his own Extremis; moments later, Steve gave a hoarse shout, spurting over his hand. He himself didn't even need to ejaculate, just let Extremis trip his pleasure centers into the white-hot override of orgasm, let himself cling and tremble and moan.

Shivering with aftershocks, he dissolved the blindfold forthwith when Steve threw himself from Tony's arms, stumbling and catching himself when Tony didn't enforce the restraint the way he'd seemed to expect. Blinking, Tony recalibrated for the light as Steve put himself back together, scowling at the sticky mess streaking the front of his briefs and uniform. 

"You see me? Good," Steve rasped. It pleased Tony, how well-used he sounded. "You're a dead man, Stark, you hear? I'm taking you down."

Tony was flying high on Extremis-supplemented endorphins, maxed out to full charge like a redlining power plant buzzing and humming in his bones. He felt radiant. Luminous, like an icon. A messiah.

He grinned in gigawatts. "But not today? Whenever you're ready, then. You come right on back to me, Steve. I'll be waiting." 

With a sauntering step, he walked to the bar to mix himself a drink, grabbing a bottle of water -- his own label -- while he was there. "Oh, dear me, How could you let me forget. Before you go..." He deactivated the rest of the modifications emulating Steve's serum-augmented musculature, and watched him deflate.

"Now, I've got a city to run, nearly a million estimable citizens whose health and beauty need seeing to, so no more time to squander on personal pleasures." The first part was the truth; the second a lie. He _always_ had time for personal pleasures. Such as rubbing Steve's nose in the matters of Tony's diversion and profit that Steve couldn't touch.

"So unless you have any further grandiose threats, imprecations, or vitriol to spew? No? Then I believe our business here is concluded." Tony lobbed the bottle in an arcing overhand toss toward Steve, who reached up to catch it by reflex. "On the house. After all that _invigorating_ exertion, I'm sure you're as thirsty as I am. Take it to go, and _get the fuck out_."

He tuned back in to the Iron Sight network. Down at street level and a block away, he watched Steve break the seal and drink deeply.

"To Extremis." From his lofty height, Tony elevated his glass in a smug, solitary toast. 


End file.
